Pink Lipstick
by Senator of Sorcery
Summary: "Really, Harry," Hermione sighed, "Pink really isn't your color. I think you're more of an orangey red." Harry looked over at her sharply. "What do you mean?" He asked. Ron answered. "Your lipstick, it should be red, not pink." (Set just before Harry's sixth year)


Pink Lipstick

Harry Potter was not Goth, nor was he one of those preppy boys that thought too much of their appearance, so the only reason he would be caught dead wearing lipstick is that he had just kissed a girl.

Unfortunately, he'd never had the chance to get lipstick on him. Unless you counted kissing Cho, but she hadn't been wearing lipstick. And we're not counting Cho right now.

That is, until one summer day just before his sixth year. He was at the Burrow, sitting with his back against a tree staring into the pond before him, but not really seeing it. Ron was in his room sulking after another fight with Hermione, and Hermione was in the sitting room furiously doing homework. Ginny was in the village, working at a day care center there. Harry had been coming to the pond rather often, to escape the chaos of the Weasley home. It wasn't that he didn't like the chaos; it often took his mind off Sirius's death. But there were times he just needed to be alone, and this was one of them. Also, the chaos was a lot more bearable when Ginny was there, and today, she would be working late. Like she did every Friday. This was just one of those times where he needed to sulk.

It was one of many brand new opportunities to wear lipstick.

What he didn't know was that Ginny had a habit of stopping by the pond on her way home for a little alone time too, and to adjust to the change between real four year olds and pretend ones, namely Ron. What he didn't know was that Ginny had chosen to wear a little make-up that day, purely because she wanted to feel pretty. What he didn't know was that Ginny was at that very moment, sitting on the pier across the pond, dipping her toes into the water and reading a book, hidden from him by his own stupidity and the gray knitted cap that covered her bright red hair.

Harry let his head fall back to rest against the trunk of the tree, and stared up into the sky. Across the pond, Ginny put a red ribbon into her book and gently closed it. Harry let out a sigh, and stood up slowly. Ginny wiped her feet dry and slipped them back into her ballet flats. Harry walked along the bank, heading for the Burrow, and, though he did not realize it, Ginny.

Ginny stood, and as she did, she spotted Harry walking slowly with his hands in the pockets of his jeans and his gaze trailing along the ground. Ginny cocked her head, and crossed the pier, moving towards him.

Harry heard the footsteps and looked up. His heart lifted when his eyes met the warm brown of Ginny's.

"Hello," she said, smiling sweetly at him. "What brings you here?"

"Nothing really," he said, shrugging, but he smiled back at her. "I just needed to think."

Ginny nodded, and they stood in silence a moment.

"So," said Harry, breaking the awkward silence, "do you come here often?"

Ginny let out a very un-Ginny like giggle.

"What?" he asked; frowning.

"It's nothing," she said, "just most guys who ask me that are using it as a pick-up line. I just found it funny coming out of your mouth."

Harry felt a twinge of something in his stomach, something remarkably like jealousy.

"I can assure you I'm trying to flirt," Harry said. Another twinge, this time it felt more like guilt.

"I know," Ginny said, "and to answer your question, yes, I come here often. Almost every day after I get back from the day care. I like to sit on the end of the pier and read or just think."

Harry nodded, "I like sitting over there to think," he said, pointing to the tree he'd been leaning against.

"We should meet up sometime," Ginny said. A mischievous glint entered her eyes, along with a glimmer of something else. Hope? Anticipation? Harry couldn't quite place it.

"We should," Harry agreed, and Ginny smiled wider. He found himself grinning at her, but he couldn't exactly say why.

"What drove you out here?" Ginny asked, tilting her head to the side just a little. A strand of hair fell from its prison of a cap, and dangled tantalizingly over her face. Without thinking, Harry reached out and tucked it behind her ear. Ginny's cheeks grew warm under his fingers, and he let his palm cup her cheek. He stared into her eyes for a moment, feeling a warm sensation in his chest that had nothing to do with the sun bearing down on his back. Then he remembered Ginny had asked him a question, and he let his hand drop.

"Uh, Ron and Hermione," he said, blinking a little. "They were fighting, and I just got fed up, so I came out here."

Ginny nodded. Her cheeks were still pink. Harry guessed his were pink too. Looking at her face, he noticed the way her long lashes curled upward, more than usual. He noticed the light blue stain on her lids, and the glinting copper lining her eyes, stretching out to curl in an almost fantastical way. Most of all, he noticed that her lips were a bright shade of pink, flecked with gold. He found that he could not tear his eyes away from the golden glimmer at the center of her mouth, or from the way that the pink corners of her mouth turned upward as her smile played with his mind.

"Harry?" the pink lips moved, forming his name. Harry blinked, and his eyes snapped back to hers. Her eyebrows had risen. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"Huh?" he said oh so intelligently. Mentally kicking himself in the pants, he attempted to correct his stumble. "Yeah, I'm good. I'm great actually. You're great too, but that's beside the point. You're always great."

"Harry, you're babbling," she said, her lovely pink lips parting to show bright white teeth.

"Oh, err, sorry," he mumbled, looking down at his feet. He felt the flush creeping up his neck in response to his babbles.

"It's all right," Ginny laughed, "everyone babbles from time to time. This one time, I was sneaking a slice of pie in the middle of the night, and Mum came down and caught me red-handed. I couldn't think of an excuse for why I had the pie out, so I just babbled myself to high heaven. In the end, Mum was laughing so hard at what I was saying that she let me off. I babble all the time, usually when I'm nervous, because I don't know what to say so I just say everything."

He looked up, smiling. Then, he realized she was babbling as well. Ginny must have noticed this as well, because she stopped talking and smiled apologetically. She bit her lip, her marble white teeth pinching her pink lip. Harry blinked, and tore his eyes away from her mouth again. This was not the first time he had caught himself staring at her mouth. He did it almost every time he saw her. When he was watching her lips, he was staring at her eyes, on occasion his gaze strayed down into forbidden territory. Whenever he caught himself looking there, he quickly looked in the other direction.

"Harry?" Ginny snapped her fingers under his nose. He felt the flush creep higher on his neck.

"What?" he said, blinking at her.

"I said, are you staying a while longer or do you want to walk up to the house with me?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah, I'll walk up with you," he said. She smiled at him. Oh, how he loved her smile.

"Then let's go," she said. Her eyes sparkled with her smile. Harry, on impulse, offered her his arm. She smiled, and slipped her arm through his. They walked away from the pond, down the path that led to the Burrow.

"So, how was the day care center?" he asked.

"Lovely, as usual," Ginny said. "The kids were just little angels today. Only one boy was upset, but that was because he missed his mum, but he calmed down after a while, bless him. I love working with them, they're so cute."

"Yeah," Harry said, "they usually are."

"There's this one boy that is just adorable," Ginny said, looking over at him. If he had been looking at her instead of the road, he would have noticed the impish grin on her face. "He's so sweet to me; he's like a little gentleman. He has the messiest hair I've ever seen, but that just makes him cuter. The cutest thing about him is that he's got this little boy crush on me."

"Really?" Harry said, glancing at her. "How old is he?"

"That's not important," she said, her smile turning to a smirk. "I adore him, you know. He's really great. He's sweet, he plays well with the other kids, and I've never seen him throw a temper tantrum. He gets a bit moody sometimes, though, and he won't let anyone in but me."

"You sound very proud of that," Harry said.

"I am," she replied.

She kept on talking, telling him all about this little boy and how cute he was. As she talked, he began to pick up on little things, and he began to notice a pattern.

When the hedge was in sight, Ginny stopped walking, and Harry turned to her.

"Harry, the boy I'm talking about doesn't go to my day care," Ginny said, taking his hand. Her smile changed, it became softer, warmer.

"He doesn't?" Harry said.

"No, he's too old for day care."

Harry felt his heart sink a little. "You're talking about someone your age," he said.

"Yes."

"A Muggle, or does he go to Hogwarts?"

"He goes to Hogwarts. He's in the year above me."

"Let me guess, Dean?"

"Nope. I only said that to annoy Ron."

Harry's spirits lifted. But only a little.

"You like him, then?" he said.

"A lot," she answered.

"Do you know if he likes you back?"

"I'm pretty sure," she said. "I think I should just straight out ask him if he does."

"Yeah," Harry said. "Let me know how that works out." He turned away, but Ginny still held his hand, and she did not let go.

"Harry?" she said. He turned back. "Do you like me?"

"Wha- what?" he stammered. "I- err, well, yeah, you're a great friend."

"That's not what I meant," Ginny said, stepping closer. "I meant do you like like me?"

"I- how- how did you know?"

"I guessed," she said, shrugging. "I've been watching you. You've been watching me, too. That was the biggest tell. Plus, you just confirmed it."

Harry gave a nervous laugh. Ginny was standing very close to him…

"So, can you tell that I've been telling you all about you?" she said softly. He nodded.

"And what are you going to do about it?" she asked, stepping even closer.

"Uh…" Harry said. His mind felt like mush, and the intoxicating coming from her did not help his situation.

Ginny smiled at him; his heart was beating like a drum in his ears. His eyes dropped down to her lips, gleaming with pink lipstick. Her tongue shot out and licked her lips. Harry felt his head leaning down; Ginny made herself as tall as she could be, and closed her eyes. Her face was inches from his; her perfect pink lips just an inch away. And then his lips were touching hers; her hand came to rest on his cheek, and his hands moved to her waist. Ginny's lips tasted as sweet as he had dreamt, though there was this slightly off taste about them, but he ignored it in favor of the feeling that had exploded in his chest.

He drew back, and Ginny's eyes were still closed. Then, ever so slowly, her eyelids fluttered open, and she grinned at him.

"How long have you been wanting that?" she asked. Her breath fell on his face, making his brain freeze up more.

"I don't know," he said. "But I want it again."

She giggled, and wrapped her arms around his neck. Harry kissed her again, lifting her into his arms and spinning her around. She laughed against his lips, holding him tightly. He set her down, and grinned down at her.

"We should go back up to the house," she said. He leaned his forehead against hers, breathing in the sweet, flowery smell that he now associated with joy.

"We probably should," he said.

"Meet me back here tonight?" she asked. "After dinner?"

"Yes," he said. She slipped from his arms, and he pushed down the twinge of sadness that came with her letting go. Ginny kissed his cheek, and she walked away, to the house.

Harry grinned like an idiot as he stood there, watching her go. He had kissed Ginny Weasley, he had finally kissed her! Pumping his fists, Harry followed her back to the house. When he stepped into the kitchen, there was no one there. He went into the sitting room, and found Ron and Hermione sitting on the couch, looking up at him. They seemed to have resolved their fight, for now.

Hermione raised her eyebrows at him. "Really, Harry," she sighed, "Pink really isn't your color. I think you're more of an orangey red."

Harry looked over at her sharply, startled. "What do you mean?" He asked.

Ron answered him, a smirk curling his lips. "Your lipstick, it should be red, not pink."

Harry felt his face turn red-hot. Hermione laughed, and she stood up, and walked up the stairs. Ron stood as well, and walked towards him.

"So, seeing as you're not the type to wear lipstick," Ron said, "it must have rubbed off on you."

"Ron, mate, it- it's not what you think-" he stuttered. Ron raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest.

"It isn't that you kissed my little sister, and that's not why you have lipstick on your mouth and your cheek? And that's not why when Ginny walked in here, her lipstick was smeared? It's not that at all?"

Harry gulped. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he noted that Ron was being a lot less dense than normal, but seeing as he was, at that moment, scared out of his wits, he wasn't really paying attention.

Then, Ron's face split in a miraculous grin. "It's about time, mate!" he said, clapping his hand on Harry's shoulder.

Harry blinked, stunned. "You- you're not mad?"

"Nah, of course not. I can't think of anybody better for my baby sister than you. But, if you do step over any lines with her, I won't pull any punches." Ron added threateningly.

"Right," Harry just about squeaked. "I'll-" he cleared his throat, and continued in a more normal voice, "I'll keep that in mind."

Ron nodded, and grinned again. "This is great," he said, "Fred and George owe me ten sickles each. They bet you wouldn't make a move until the year started."

With that, Ron turned away, and bounded up the steps, leaving Harry flustered and slightly annoyed that his best friend had bet on when he'd make a move on his little sister. Sighing, Harry wiped the lipstick off his mouth, and started up the stairs.


End file.
